


She was destined to lose him

by MelindaCoulson4



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Death, F/M, Hurt, Regret, Sad, can't escape fate, lol happy valentine's day everyone, supportive fitzsimmons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 08:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13677774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelindaCoulson4/pseuds/MelindaCoulson4
Summary: “There is nothing that can be done. He'll die and you can't stop it. No matter how hard you try.”





	She was destined to lose him

**Author's Note:**

> Idk I tried writing a quick angsty piece and this developed. It's dark. Trigger warning for blood and major character death.

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Never like this.   
  
Everything had gotten so out of control. The inevitable had crept up. It had closed in on them. She couldn't stop it, no matter how strong she pretended to be. Her brave face was no match for fate.    
  
_“There is nothing that can be done. He'll die and you can't stop it. No matter how hard you try.”_ The whispering voice that was one of her only memories of the future haunted her with those words.   
__  
He'll die.  
  
He'll die.   
  
He'll die.   
  
Those two words had been on a loop in her mind ever since they came back. Every time she looked at Phil she was reminded of his impending doom. His last breaths. She didn't want to be there to see them. Instead, she'd foolishly thought that she could beat fate. If anyone could change his future, she could. She'd made it her personal mission to protect him. Give her life for his if needed.   
  
Still, the images crept up when she least expected them. When she'd turn and see him near, smiling at her or having a conversation with Daisy, her brain would remind her that he was a dead man walking. She would imagine blood leaking from the side of his mouth. It took everything inside of her not to run to him. To keep him locked up in a room away from anything that could harm him.   
  
At night, things became even more unbearable. The autopsy photos that she'd forced Hill to let her see came to life in her nightmares. She'd dreamt of New York, Loki, the scepter going through Phil's chest. Except this time she was there for it all and powerless to stop it. Loki had her tied up in the corner, forced her to watch as the metal staff went through Phil's back and pierced his chest. All she could do was scream, which turned into tearful begging. If only Loki would kill her instead. Spare Phil. Each time he'd smirked at her, gleeful that she could not interfere as he killed Phil. She never thought she'd ever see something worse.   
  
She was wrong.   
  
The day the rocks tore the zephyr apart, that was the worst.

They'd finally gotten home, back to their time only to return to chaos. A war had broken out. LMDs had replaced relatively all of the top government officials. They'd replaced every shield agent, Daisy in particular. Replicas of Daisy roamed the streets, gunning down every innocent civilian in sight. Making shield public enemy number one for the umpteenth time.   
  
Daisy had been hunted down by anyone with a badge, gun, or a sense of righteousness. They'd faced so many assaults that May had lost count. Daisy had separated herself from the rest of them in an attempt to save them, hoping that people would stop coming after them and instead only go after her. But it had backfired. The watchdogs had grown exponentially. They'd risen to a somewhat powerful position in society. And they had been successful in capturing Daisy. She'd become a public spectacle. They tortured her on live TV. Doing unspeakable things to her, relentlessly. Treating her less than human. All the while the team tried their hardest to track down where the monsters were keeping her. No one slept, especially Phil. The whole situation caused everyone to be on edge. They were broken and desperate.   
  
After three days of no sleep, barely eating, they'd caught a break in the shape of an off the charts earthquake. They’d known it was her the moment it was reported on the news.

Daisy's control had slipped. The constant torture had broken her resolve. Her powers had exploded out of her in the form of destruction. She'd begun to tear the world apart just like everyone had told them she would. She'd become the destroyer of worlds in an attempt to prevent it.  
  
The tremors were only the beginning. Soon enough roads began cracking, buildings were torn apart, trees were ripped from the ground, and all the while debris flew through the air at hundreds of miles per hour.   
  
So naturally, that's where they went, straight into the storm, aiming to save her.   
  
The zephyr couldn't withstand the force of the swirling fragments. The objects had hit the body of the plane with so much force that they'd pierced through the metal armor.   
  
The shield agents, the civilians, the first responders, anyone they could bring aboard in an attempt to save, they had. They’d collectively hit the deck when the zephyr began tearing apart. Simultaneous shouts filled the cabin: _Take cover. Get on the ground. Everyone stay low.  
_  
She'd thought everyone had come out unscathed. They'd reacted quickly enough. No one had to get hurt.   
  
She'd cradled Robin's head underneath her body, shielding her from the flying objects. The little girl was scared. She'd just lost her mother in their escape from the lighthouse. She was alone and needed protecting. Afterwards, May ordered someone to keep an eye on Robin, so she wouldn’t go wandering around.  
  
Once they'd made it through the worst of the storm May went back to piloting the plane. All was seemingly fine for a few minutes. People scrambled to patch up the holes. They were all moving, working hard. Everyone cooperated, banding together to fix the quake that had ripped through the aircraft.  
  
She would’ve sworn that he was safe and they had dodged the inevitable. That's what the words on the paper, written in her own cursive writing had told her to do. _Save Phil_ , was all that was smeared on the crinkled scrap of paper. She'd found it the night they came back to the present. When she was changing her clothes it had slipped out of her pocket. They'd all come back with jumbled memories. Everyone on the team had a hard time piecing together what had happened to them in the future. But when she read those ominous words a memory hit her. One of a white-haired older woman whispering in her ear, _“There is nothing that can be done. He'll die and you can't stop it. No matter how hard you try.”_    
  
Everything had been under control until a strangled voice called her name.   
  
She'd turned and seen Fitz hands shaking, eyes beckoning her to follow him.  
  
She'd pressed the auto pilot button and done just that.  
  
He didn't have to say a word. She'd known in her gut that something was wrong. Something had happened to Phil.   
  
Fitz jogged through a few corridors, dodging people, and finally came to a stop in the middle of a hallway near the armory.   
  
That's when she saw Phil sprawled on the ground, surrounded by blood. There was so much blood.   
  
"Phil," she gasped, falling to her knees at his side.  
  
She forced her eyes to stay on his face, unable to look at the damage done to his body. How the rocks had pierced him everywhere. She'd seen a glimpse at his chest and her stomach flipped over.   
  
His eyes were wide open in panic. Blood spewed from his mouth as he coughed uncontrollably. His gaze was unfocused and fading. She didn't know if he had even noticed she was there.   
  
It took everything inside of her to swallow the sickness threatening to burst from her mouth. The signal for her body to keep breathing had become lost. It was now a conscious process as the panic seized her control.  
  
This wasn't real. It wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. Not to _him_. Not Phil.  
  
She thought that he'd be safe in here. She'd done everything in her power to protect him.   
  
She'd followed the directions. She did what the paper had written on it.   
  
"Ss-ss-so-rr-y," he rasped. His breaths became shallow shudders. He was slipping away, unable to look at her. She was losing him. His life was like grains of sand falling through her fingers as she desperately tried to gather fistfuls. As hard as she tried she couldn't hold onto him. The only thing she could think of doing now was to put her hands on his chest to slow the bleeding- anything to stop the life from draining out of him. She glanced at his body and bile instantly climbed her throat. His jacket was peppered with holes the size of golf balls. Each one was leaking blood. She laid her hands on two of the wounds closer to his heart and pressed firmly, trying to staunch the flow. But, no matter what she did, it wouldn't stop. The warm, deep red liquid ran through the spaces between her fingers and down to the floor.   
  
They'd run out of time. She was powerless against this, against fate.   
  
"Mel-inda," he gasped out as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.   
  
She finally let go of his wounds. What good was she doing when the blood wouldn't stop? He was hardly breathing and the pressure she was applying constricted it.   
  
Barely controlled tremors ran through her body. She lifted her shaking hands and stared wide-eyed at them, unable to believe that they were her own. Both were caked in his blood. It was everywhere: under her fingernails, stuck between each finger, sunken into her skin.   
  
Her eyes closed as she swallowed, taking a deep breath, desperate for control. She had to get a grip and comfort Phil.  
  
"I'm here, Phil." She answered, somehow able to find her voice.  
  
The only thing she could think of was to ground him with her touch. Connect them together. So, she gently lifted his real hand and held it between both of her own.  
  
It ached and somehow awakened a need inside of her. When did she last hold his hand? When they were undercover as Heidi and Charles? That's the last time she could remember. His warm palm had clasped hers as he led her around the dance floor. It was the closest they'd been to _something_. He’d shared his alien writing impulses with her, only trusting her to help him- to watch him. It deepened their partnership and friendship somehow. It was the most vulnerable he'd ever been with her.

That slow dance was just a moment. Something fleeting, but it still meant a great deal to her. She needed this touch now just as much as he did. They'd been deprived for too long.   
  
"You're going to be okay," she told him softly, lip quivering at the sensation of their skin to skin contact. His fingertips were already freezing to the touch. His body was shutting down. It couldn't pump enough blood through his veins. His skin had grown clammy and sickly pale.   
  
A gurgling sound came from his throat. She realized, horrified, that he was choking on his own blood. His head lifted with the force of each inhale, desperately trying to fill his lungs with oxygen. But he couldn’t get enough.  
  
She squeezed his hands tightly, making sure that he could feel it, bringing him back to her. She’d do anything to help him ease the pain, to get him to focus on her.   
  
"Phil...Phil...look at me. Simmons....she's got you. She'll have you patched up and we can go get Daisy. Together. We'll do it. Okay?" Her voice quivered with each word as the lies slipped from her lips. Tears ran uncontrollably down her face, blurring her image of him.    
  
"That's right, sir.....all better in no time," Simmons confirmed, barely holding it together. Her voice came out steady, but the tears running down her cheeks spoke of a different story.  
  
Phil stopped fighting in that moment. His body lay flat and unmoving for an extended period of seconds, but his eyes seemed piercing as he stared right at her. Hope grew inside of her even though she knew deep down it was foolish. He was slipping away.   
  
Maybe thinking of Daisy had brought him peace. Or maybe he'd been able to read the look in her eyes. Maybe he'd known right then: that this was the end.   
  
His real hand weakly squeezed hers the best way he could. The force of his grip now no more than twitching fingers covering hers.   
  
"I-i....l-lo-lo-ve yo-u," he whispered brokenly, barely breathing.   
  
The words went straight to her chest and shattered her heart. The pieces of it lodged in her throat making it exponentially harder to do anything.

The gasp left her mouth before she could reel it in. She'd been trying to keep her feelings at bay, but she suddenly couldn't anymore. He was dying and saying the three words she'd always wished he would.   
  
Her own words came quickly after that, desperately slipping from her lips. She tried anything to keep him awake. To keep him listening to her. To have his chest continue to move, however slowly she didn't care as long as he was breathing. "I love you too, Phil. I always have. You're my best friend and I love you so much. Keep breathing okay. Please...Just keep...breathing,” she begged.   
  
His lips began twitching up in an attempt at a smile. It didn’t last long though. His body surrendered to a fit a coughing, shaking, and wheezing.   
  
_Keep him comfortable and awake_ , she reminded herself.   
  
She had to keep him with her. Right here.

  
And so, she began talking.

  
She told him how she imagined their first date to be. How Daisy would pick out her dress and his shirt, scrutinizing the materials ensuring that they matched. How they'd go to a quiet, intimate place. A hole in the wall that he'd always wanted to go to, but never got the chance. The conversation would flow easily after the initial anxiety subsided. They'd reminisce about old missions, successes and failures. Old memories that would make his eyes crinkle with laughter and her smile fondly at him. They'd hold hands over the tablecloth and drink wine. Then, at the end of the night he'd surprise her by pulling out a bottle of Haig back at home. Glass tumblers would be filled, but after the first sip they'd lean in to each other and share a gentle kiss that would turn passionate. A mutual agreement would come to pass and someone would spend the night in the other's bed. From there they'd go on as normal. _Together_. Two people in love and so happy, genuinely happy being together. That's just how it would be.   
  
_Never like this_.  
  
Not with Phil staring at her with his eyes glazed over. Not with her wondering if he could even process what she was saying anymore.   
  
Not with him fading away. Suffering as each breath became more delayed than the last.   
  
"Please don't leave me.....please," she begged him. She begged the universe to let him stay.   
  
Their gazes locked in that moment. It appeared that he was focusing on her, but the familiar gleam in his eyes was not there. It wasn't Phil's usual warmth. Now, all she saw was nothing more than a cold, empty stare.   
  
It was torture for the both of them. He'd already been through this before. He'd begged to die and she'd been there for that too. She felt like he was telling her that now. _Please let me die_ , his eyes screamed as his mouth failed him.   
  
Warm tears rolled down her cheeks as she thought back to her promise from so long ago. He'd asked her to take him out if the time came, if he was not in control of himself. She'd made that promise with the intention to never let him suffer. That's what was happening now and it couldn't go on a second longer. The weight of it pressed against her like a bulldozer slamming into her chest. It was unbearable.   
  
Back then she couldn't go through with it because of the life that still ran through his veins, but in this moment she knew that life had significantly faded. She was willing to do it for him now to end his pain. She squeezed and held his hand tightly in her left hand as her right let go and traveled to her hip.   
  
"No," a whispered protest halted her movement. A gentle hand landed on her own over her holstered gun. After a few seconds she realized that it was Fitz, sitting right next to her, eyes also overflowing with tears.

"Jemma," he said, motioning to Phil's other side. 

May looked up to see Jemma staring at her with tears brimming her eyes. "May...I can ease the suffering medically. Help him find relief." Jemma blinked back the tears as she held up a needle filled with liquid.   
  
Jemma didn't need to explain what was in the needle. She knew it was something to ease Phil's suffering, to help him go painlessly.   
  
She nodded her consent, silently communicating with Jemma that this was the right call.   
  
May moved closer to Phil, holding his face in her bloody hands. "Look Phil. At me. It's Melinda. I love you. I love you. I love you....I’m so sorry."  
  
Simmons depressed the needle, slowly into Phil's neck.   
  
He shuddered briefly in response. Then, he was frozen.

She held her breath right along with him as he passed.  
  
He was gone within a second.   
  
She broke in that same second.   
  
A poorly contained sob burst from her lips. She'd lost the control she'd been fighting against.   
  
Her head lowered to his chest as she grabbed his jacket between her fingers like holding onto the jacket would somehow ease the hurt. She crushed the material between both palms. Held it, squeezed it as the shuddering cries took ahold of her. Her shoulders shook as her chest burst with flames that burned through her flesh.  
  
He was still warm. How could he be dead if he was still warm? It spoke of the life drifting off inside of him. He was gone and she couldn't do anything to stop it this time. Fury wasn't here to bring him back. There was no Tahiti. No GH325. This was permanent.   
  
They were supposed to have more time. They never even had a chance to drink the Haig. To sit down and just talk about everything. To address their feelings for one another. There were so many things they never got to properly talk about. Bahrain. Andrew. Rosalind. Tahiti. Everything that happened when the LMD had replaced her.   
  
The disbelief threatened to swallow her whole- that this had happened to him, to them. The ache bubbled up and she could no longer hold it back.   
  
"Phil....no.....please.....no. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she sobbed into his shirt.   
  
She sat up, so she could look at him, to see him one last time.   
  
He didn't move. The lifelessness behind his eyes cut her the most. The crinkles that were always there, the ones that she felt he somehow reserved for her when he flashed his customary knowing smile were not there. His face was blank.   
  
_Dead._  
  
He was dead.  
  
The tears came even faster after that. She could barely keep herself upright from the force of her choking sobs. That's when a pair of warm arms wrapped around her and pulled her close.   
  
"I've got you," Fitz whispered as he supported her weight. Without him she would melt into the ground.   
  
She buried her face in his chest as her body was crushed by the loss. She shook and cried her heart out for hours as Fitz stayed with her.  
  
Phil was gone.   
  
She was empty.

 

_//end//_

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading everyone! as always feel free to comment :)


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